Something To Believe In

[Cactus]

The average human male can hold their breath anywhere between forty-five seconds to one minute before having the overwhelming urge to take a breath. The last breath that Claudeson Bademosi ever took lasted for a minute and a half before the aching in his lungs could no longer hold out and he had to inhale. Tyrell had intensified his push and a few seconds before he had to open his mouth, his body relaxed; his mind found peace.
It is okay; this is for the best.
Cold water entered his mouth and burned as it started to fill his lungs. He had a momentary spasm as his body jerked against the feeling of the water invading the space where human beings were only supposed to breathe air. All of the other pain within his body, particularly that in his hand, fell away — the burning sensation taking precedence over everything else. Yet as his body jerked involuntarily and his throat burned as it took on the lake water, his expression remained serene. Were he able, he still would have smiled.
I do not fear judgement; I welcome it.
It took only seconds for the burning sensation to cease, his body felt heavy and Claudeson had the urge to relax, to let go and shut his eyes. For his last moments of consciousness, he felt a reticence to do so; each time he had for the past several days, a horrific visage had stamped itself through his mind. Bryan's contorted face had been a spectre that had haunted him, but that was a byproduct of his own personal darkness. He was no longer afraid of the darkness, for it could no longer touch him. His last feeling was one of wonder, of anticipation.
I am ready.
Claudeson knew that he was in God's hands now. What happened next would be between him and the Almighty. This time when he closed his eyes, he knew that he would be tortured by his darkness no longer.

So he did.

He was not disappointed.

B005 - BADEMOSI, CLAUDESON -- DECEASED
Bless you.

[Shiola]

It wasn’t easy to make out what was going on under the surface, and so Ty could only rely on touch. There were a few seconds where it seemed like Claude had given up, followed by a sudden spasm that threatened to set Ty off balance again. Before long, he’d stopped moving. Let go, or couldn’t hold on any longer. The difference only mattered to Claude.

Slowly at first, he relaxed his grip on Claude’s neck. No movement, only the conspicuous absence of buoyancy and the water slowly jostling the silhouette of his body. There was no question - it was over. Wading aside, Ty let the current slowly carry it towards the ocean.

The water lapped against his thighs, the force of the current almost too much to bear in his weakened state. Even still it felt important to stand there, for a minute. To see this for what it was, to know that despite the odds, he remained standing and his opponent was not. He’d wanted something chaotic, something dynamic. Something that wasn’t just fading away, languishing from some tropical infection or picked off at range, without a fight, by his girlfriend or some other doomed kid.

It was excruciating, and it felt like this kind of victory was supposed to. It felt meaningful. Until he’d found it, he never would’ve admitted to himself that one last hopeless fight was all he’d really needed.

A minute was all he had, before the absence of sensation in his extremities became too apparent to ignore. He had no intention of dying the same way Claude had. Though it was only a slight incline, Ty found himself barely able to clamber from the water and back onto the rocky shore. Blood and water ran down his legs, leaving wet footprints behind him as he walked.

He’d made it a short distance from the river before he began to question where exactly he thought he was going. Part of him didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to keep riding the high that had kept him going so far.

Went up against that with nothing but a crowbar, and I won. I beat him. Wonder if that makes things even with the Carters, now.

His ruminations were cut short as he looked down and once again noticed the metal bolt sticking out of his midsection. It seemed so strange that the sensation for something like it could come and go. As he considered that fact, it started to feel once again like it should have.

“Oh. Right.”

A couple of dry, flat rocks at the coastline seemed like a good enough place to stop. At first intending some kind of gentle repose, Ty only made it a few steps towards his chosen spot before his legs buckled out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground.

((Tyrell Lahti concluded in: Will All Be Forgiven?))